


Annual Atlantis Arts Festival

by Brumeier



Series: Bite Sized Fic [89]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Family Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Music, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:53:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7424443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LJ Comment Fic for High School Never Ends prompt: <i>Stargate Atlantis, Rodney McKay +/ any, high school piano recital.</i></p><p>In which Rodney hates recitals, but this one just might make him forget an unpleasant memory from his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Annual Atlantis Arts Festival

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** Fic may be viewed as nauseatingly cloying by some. Proceed at your own risk. ::smirks::

Recitals, it turned out, were not just something to be endured on Earth. Many of the cultures that AR-1 encountered through the Gate, including the Athosians, had similar events. Some were woven into harvest festivals, or coming of age ceremonies, but it all boiled down to the same thing: kids showing off things they’d learned for an audience, and receiving praise even when they weren’t particularly good.

It hadn’t been an issue for the expedition, at least not until Teyla went and got pregnant. As if that was some unspoken signal, suddenly more children started populating the city. Radek fell in love with the Russian chemist, and she proved incredibly fertile. One of the linguists adopted a little boy who had been saved moments before being sacrificed by Wraith worshippers. And then, of course, there was AJ.

Children in the city instituted a lot of changes. Some Gate teams had to be reorganized, so that both parents weren’t on the same team just in case something happened offworld. A school, of sorts, was developed and staffed by volunteers. The botanists created a park inside one of the greenhouses. The Marines turned an unused conference room into a rec room. Rodney himself developed wrist bands for the kids to wear that would ensure certain sections of Atlantis would be off-limits to them, and also enabled easy tracking of their whereabouts.

Rodney didn’t know whose idea the first recital was, and it was probably better for everyone that he didn’t.

AJ was three years old for his first performance, which was basically just him playing catch with Torren and only dropping the ball half the time. John had beamed the entire time, but Rodney had only rolled his eyes.

"Throwing a ball isn't a talent."

“When you’re three, catching one is.”

When AJ was five, he performed a routine that was a mix of bantos stick fighting and Satedan dance. Rodney had to admit that one was a little bit impressive, because some of the foot work was complex. AJ only hit himself with the sticks a handful of times; he needed two stitches for the gash on his forehead.

Two years after that the recitals morphed into the annual Atlantis Arts Festival, a “cross-cultural celebration”. The recitals were still the highlight, but there was also an art show, a dramatic play, and workshops for the kids. That year John and AJ performed a shortened version of _Who’s on First_. It brought the house down, and even Rodney had to admit they were pretty awesome despite AJ’s incessant giggling throughout.

And maybe he was a little bit jealous, too, because he didn’t have any artsy things to teach AJ. Rodney could show his son how to build a miniature matter bridge, or how to write an elegant algorithm, or how to soup up an RC car, but he wasn’t creative outside of science.

Or maybe he’d just forgotten.

The year AJ was eleven, he got secretive about his plans for the festival for the first time. John was in on it, if only to keep Rodney from hacking into the security feeds to find out what was going on. Not that he would’ve been able to, because Atlantis seemed to love AJ more than either him or John, which made no sense to Rodney because his son didn’t have the ATA gene.

Most of Rodney’s staff conspired to keep him from prying into AJ’s presentation. They kept him busy, kept him distracted, until the day of the festival. And then he still had to wait through Torren’s Jiu Jitsu demonstration, and Valentina’s original ballet piece, and the Stackhouse Family Singers.

John, who had been backstage helping AJ get ready, resumed his seat beside Rodney. “This is gonna knock your socks off,” he said with a grin.

“This better not be all build-up and no follow through,” Rodney warned. “If you all just –”

The curtain was pulled open to reveal AJ on stage, standing in front of a portable keyboard. Rodney forgot what he was going to say. He almost forgot to breathe. For the briefest second he was transported back to his first piano recital, calm and confident. It wasn’t until after that his music teacher had told him he should give up playing.

“My pop used to play the piano,” AJ said to the assembled crowd. “But someone told him he wasn’t good, so he stopped. But he shouldn’t have, because it doesn’t matter if you’re good. It only matters if you’re having fun. Right, Dad?”

John gave him a thumbs up.

“My Aunt Jeannie said this was the song he played at his only recital. I hope you like it.”

“You okay?” John asked Rodney, the grin sliding off his face to be replaced by concern. 

Rodney shook his head. He couldn’t believe Jeannie had blabbed about the piano, or that AJ would even be interested enough in it to learn to play. 

“How?” he asked.

“Jeannie sent a digital video. He must’ve watched it a thousand times.” John reached for Rodney’s hand. “It was his idea.”

AJ started to play. Beethoven’s _Ode to Joy_. Rodney’s fingers twitched with the memory of playing it over and over in anticipation of the recital. He’d worked so hard, had it down perfect. And then Ms. Greenblatt had told him he had no heart, that the music was technically perfect but soulless. He’d been crushed.

It was different this time. AJ’s fingers moved confidently over the keys, but Rodney could hear every mistake he made. Despite that, his son had a huge smile on his face, and he was putting everything he had into the song, bobbing his head in time to the music as he played.

“He doesn’t have much skill,” John said softly. “But he’s got lots of heart.”

Rodney was embarrassed when tears pricked at his eyes. “Who taught him?”

“Like I said, he watched the video. A lot.”

“What?” Rodney turned wide eyes on John. “He taught himself?”

“His father taught him,” John corrected.

AJ finished with a flourish that almost sent the keyboard crashing to the floor; he righted it just in time. Everyone clapped and cheered, Rodney loudest of all.

“Did you like it?” AJ asked when he joined his fathers. On stage, Lily Dex was doing the equivalent of finger painting, using a device that translated her hand movements into temporary, brightly-colored swoops and swirls.

“I loved it,” Rodney said. He hugged his brilliant, wonderful son until AJ started to squirm.

“Can you teach me another song?” AJ asked. “Please?”

Rodney hadn’t touched a keyboard in over three decades. Maybe it was time to give it another shot.

“I’d like that,” he said.

AJ was all smiles, and John was radiating a ridiculous amount of smugness, and Rodney loved them both too much to put into words.

He was the luckiest man in two galaxies.


End file.
